


Rule the Court (of Fools)

by CharWright5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, Kyoutani pissing Oikawa off, Oikawa gets no respect, Seijoh Family Feels, Supplementary scene, Training Camp, lots of king and knight metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: Oikawa is the Grand King but it's too bad his team is full of jesters, especially a particularly untrained Maddog who needs to learn his place.
Kudos: 18





	Rule the Court (of Fools)

**Author's Note:**

> **For _Ukiyo: a Pretty Setters Zine_**
> 
> I was lucky enough to get Oikawa and training camp and after discussing things with my artist, we went with the humor route.
> 
> Art by the incredible Michelle (waveoftheocean) located [here](https://twitter.com/waveoftheocean/status/1306414204887298049?s=19).

As the captain of a team whose motto was “Rule the Court”, Tooru figured that made him a king of sorts—as his nickname suggested. At least, he liked to pretend as though he was one.

Only problem was his loyal subjects didn’t quite live up to his standards or his own exacting nature. Instead, he was surrounded by fools who communicated mostly in memes, _kouhais_ who didn't take the game seriously enough, jesters who poked fun at him, and one particular second year who refused to listen to a word he said despite Tooru being the reason for his return in the first place.

Quite rude, really.

At least he could always count on Iwa-chan to listen and follow through on his orders, even if it sometimes came with an eyeroll or less than flattering wordplay with his family name. He wondered if there was an insult that Iwa-chan had yet to put before “-kawa” as he growled at his childhood best friend.

Kinda rude, too, now that Tooru was thinking about it, but he’d gotten so used to it that it was strange to hear his actual family name coming from the guy.

Not that any of that mattered at that moment. No, his biggest issue at that moment was the stripy haired lump of a boy lazing about at the edge of the gym, currently stuffing his face with some form of fried chicken, rather than engaging in the stretches the rest of the team were participating in—highly necessary stretches, since they were about to do battle against Dateko and their famed Iron Wall during that afternoon’s training camp game. Tooru didn't like losing and expected his team to be in tip-top shape for all fights, hungry for victory rather than convenience store cuisine. And yet...

Kyoutani was a rebel, that much was obvious, given his ridiculous bleach job and the angry way he glared at everything and his inability to join in on team activities. But Tooru knew the second year was necessary to their victory. Every great king—or grand ones, in his case—had an equally great army behind him, soldiers who fought hard to ensure their leader came out on top. With Shiratorizawa still a thorn in his side and Karasuno miraculously posing a threat–damn that Tobio-chan—Tooru knew he needed his own soldiers to fight harder, get stronger.

This bastard, with his stupid hair and uncaring attitude and anti-social ways, was the strength they needed, the secret weapon they could use. Kyoutani’s power matched his own, matched that stupid annoying stupid Ushiwaka’s. He could easily propel them to victory against all the teams in the region and on to nationals.

If he’d ever stop stuffing his face and actually participate in drills, of course.

With a huff, Tooru marched over to where Kyoutani was sitting, his cheeks puffed from the too large bite he’d just ripped off his chicken, and towered over the second year with his hands on his hips. He did his best to look imposing, to exude the authority given to him by his status as captain and reputation as Grand King, but Kyoutani just stared up at him unimpressed, chewing slowly like nothing else was going on.

“Maddog-chan,” he began, voice authoritative. “Put the food away and start stretching.”

Kyoutani finished chewing. Swallowed. Tore off another bite with his teeth, like an actual dog. All with the same deadpan expression.

Tooru’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in annoyance. He knew the rest of the soldiers/ jesters around him didn’t take him seriously at times, liked to laugh at his expense and make fun. But when it came to volleyball, they respected him, listened to him, did as he said, especially the younger ones. Hell, Yahaba practically worshipped the ground Tooru walked on, looked up at him with sparkling eyes and an awed expression.

The total opposite of Kyoutani’s bored gaze and chipmunk cheeks.

Annoying little...

No. He was going to be nice, going to reason with him, going to show respect. So he took a deep breath and put on a saccharine smile, spreading his arms genially as he reasoned with the unreasonable. “You really should put the food away and start stretching. You don't wanna pull something while playing or running drills, right?” he pointed out in a friendly manner, sharing his wisdom like a good captain, _senpai_ , and king. “Besides, eating this close to strenuous activity will only make you sick and I’d hate for anything like that to happen to you.”

He didn’t point out that it was for more altruistic reasons, but he figured that didn’t matter. Ends justifying the means and all that. In this case, the ends being his soldiers tearing down the Iron Wall. Training camp or not, Tooru would accept nothing less than victory.

Kyoutani snorted, an actual response, the sound echoed by a nearby Iwa-chan, and Tooru huffed as he put one hand on his hip and pointed down at the second year authoritatively.

“I command you to put away the chicken at once!”

An eyeroll this time. At least the guy’s ears worked, since he was clearly responding. Albeit not in the way Tooru wanted him to.

“ _Now_ , Maddog-chan!”

“Kyoutani, toss the chicken or else we all have to suffer from Whiny-kawa’s hissy fits.”

Tooru let out an offended noise—that Iwa-chan would probably describe as a “squawk”, but totally wasn’t, because that was beneath royalty such as himself—and turned to glare at his childhood friend. “I do _not_ throw hissy fits!” he argued, stomping a foot.

Iwa-chan gave said foot a pointed look, scoffed, then turned back to Kyoutani. “Just do it.”

At that point, Kyoutani was already on his feet, wrapping what was left of his snack-meal-whatever, murmuring a “yes, Iwaizumi-senpai” before rushing to stash it in his bag.

Tooru repeated his earlier noise, turning a flabbergasted look on his best friend, arms flying about indignantly. “Why does he listen to _you_ and not _me_?!” he demanded to know, aiming a scowl Iwa-chan’s way.

Far too used to Tooru’s dramatics, Iwa-chan rolled his eyes and casually stretched an arm behind his head. “Does it matter? He put the chicken away and now he’s doing his stretches.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Tooru found Kyoutani doing just that, Yahaba laying into him about something, judging by the aggressive finger wagging in Maddog-chan’s face. The guy looked almost chastened, but more confused than anything, head tilted to the side like a curious puppy, like he couldn’t figure out why he was listening to the other setter either.

“Stop taking everything so damn personally,” Iwa-chan murmured, the words firm yet with a soft edge, like the man himself. Tooru turned back to find his best friend giving him a hard look, arms crossed and jaw tight. “You have a vice captain for a reason. Remember, teams are made of six on the court and the team with the—”

“With the stronger six is the one who comes out on top,” Tooru finished for him, waving his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. I just want to make sure that _we_ are the ones with the stronger six and Maddog-chan helps us with that.” His own arms folded, Tooru stuck his nose in the air, trying to project an air of superiority, earning another scoff from Iwa-chan. Including Kyoutani was for the betterment of Seijoh, their team, for his own chances of beating damn Ushiwaka and finally setting foot on the national stage in Tokyo.

But a team had to be a cohesive unit and Maddog-chan’s actions weren’t conducive to that, so it was his job as captain to bring him into the fold, his job as king to keep his soldiers in line and in their place.

Not that Iwa-chan seemed to care about that last part, scrubbing at Tooru's head and ignoring his cries of “Iwa-chan is so rough!”

“Stop being such a damn nagging mom and maybe he’ll listen to you!” Iwa-chan growled, shoving Tooru's head away.

Tooru faltered a couple steps before righting himself, glaring at Iwa-chan’s retreating back and stomping his foot once more. “I am not a mother, I am a _Grand King_!” he sassed in response.

“Can the Grand King please lead us in drills and stop messing around then?” Mattsun requested with a sarcastic bow.

Tooru glared then stuck his nose in the air once more before striding over. Was too bad he wasn’t an actual king. His first decree would be to take the heads off some of the court jesters meant to be his soldiers.


End file.
